


The End Of The Line

by tardisy



Series: Endings [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: End!verse, Episode: s05e04 The End, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:57:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1445917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisy/pseuds/tardisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You said you’d follow him to the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End Of The Line

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on [Tumblr](http://tardisy.tumblr.com/post/82352814221/the-end-of-the-line-end-verse-castiel).

 

It’s funny.

The whole dying thing.

Sure, you’ve experienced it once before. But being exploded by your assbutt of a brother didn’t exactly allow time for the whole “life flashing before your eyes” gig.

Then again, you could probably live a lifetime more just in the time it would take to get to the primordial ooze phase.

You expected there to be more to it. To be like those movies Dean made you watch, in motel rooms, tucked close together, listening to the steady thrum of his heart, while you still had the luxury of that sort of thing.

 _As long as it’s not like falling,_ you had said. _As long as it doesn’t feel like losing my wings._

 _It doesn’t_ , he replied hollowly, calloused hands pressing you into the musty mattress, and suddenly, thinking about the end of your newly human life seemed like a damn waste of the time that preceded it.

That was before Chitaqua. Before that permanent scowl marred Dean’s handsome features. Before the blissful liberation of the pills.

If it had been after the pills, you would have said, _Dean, oh Dean, I hope it’s like this. When it’s time to go, I hope it’s floating and foggy and flying._

Spoiler alert: it’s a little bit of both.

The demons and the Croats did their job; but you did yours, too, and human hands and grey matter aside, you still contain within yourself millennia of combat experience and tactical knowledge. You knew they’d underestimate you: a pathetic bag of meat and bones, empty spaces where once smoldered the eternal, righteous inferno of your grace.

They did not understand that another flame blazed within you, fed by the desperate loyalty and absolute love you felt for the man that had sent you here in the first place, a flame that was perhaps more potent than even the holy fire that created the stars in the heavens. That pulled a good man from the deepest pits of Hell.

You knew these things would be beyond the comprehension of a creature borne of darkness and corruption. Shit, in this day and age, that kind of fierce devotion was foreign to _human beings_.

It is why you still stand, broken and weaving but breathing (for a few minutes more, anyway), while the rotting floor is stained crimson, littered with spent casings and crumpled vessels.

It’s why you are able to watch through the window as your brother, not his, even though they appear to be one and the same, twists his foot into the lean, yielding column of Dean’s neck.

You remember the day Sam said yes, of how Dean had held you as you screamed and wept and tore at your hair as your grace imploded, of how he smashed your face into the same stretch of flesh now sullied by Lucifer’s sooty shoeprint. Later, when you calmed in his arms, trembling and exhausted, he brushed his mouth across your hair, your forehead, your cheek, your mouth, and back again, whispering, _You got a choice now. I know what I gotta do, but I ain’t gonna drag you down with me. You don’t have to stay._

You had looked into his eyes, dulled by Sam’s surrender and your agony, thought, _Where else would I go?,_ but said, _I am where I want to be,_ kept your own eyes open as you pressed your lips to his parted mouth. _Until the end._

 _‘Til the end of the line_ , he had echoed, _you and me, Cas._

Your vision blurs to a wash of color as you drop to your knees, Dean’s deceptively tranquil form the last discernible image you see. The thought of him finally at rest, at peace, makes you smile, or you think you do, as the world tilts and you hear more than feel yourself hit the floor, scattering the spent shells and adding to the gruesome mess you created.

You said you’d follow him to the end.

You meant it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on [Tumblr](http://tardisy.tumblr.com/post/82352814221/the-end-of-the-line-end-verse-castiel).


End file.
